


a moonlit garden

by frambroise



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 09:39:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frambroise/pseuds/frambroise
Summary: There's a garden sprinkled with starlit dew with a full and gentle moon. Frederick checks the royal garden before his lieges go to sleep, but he finds something there. Someone there.





	

The night was as black as a shadow. Divine white light fell dreamily and innocently over the crisp, dew-dropped garden that Frederick was in. He felt at ease, but he did not come here to admire the enchanting view. He had come to the royal garden to make sure there was nothing suspicious like a thief, hiding beneath the petals and thorns and blending in amongst flowery shadows.

   
When he found out that there was nothing but soft rain sprinkled on leaves and petals, he turned his heels and made his way back to the castle with safe satisfaction—but then he halted.

   
Frederick narrowed his eyes. There was a shadow that could not be created by plants. There was figure sitting on one of the benches, upper body bended so he couldn't quite see his or her head. There was also a large and ornate fountain with moon-kissed waters that blocked the thief. He could only see the curve of a shoulder. 

  
Both of his lieges were at their bedchambers and Robin was in the royal library returning books . . . this had to be some sort of thief. An intruder.

  
Frederick was without his armor, just dark trousers and a white long sleeved blouse, but he did have a sword strapped to his left hip. Frederick's calloused right hand ghosted above the hilt as he slowly made his way to the hunched, suspicious . . . white haired thief?

   
His hand dropped to his side, no longer at his blade. "Robin?"

   
He saw the figure flinch upright, pearly white locks swirling as the person twisted its body towards his voice.

   
So it _was_ Robin.

  
Robin's pecan eyes widened but then relaxed. "Frederick," she said, "what are you doing here?" she tilted her head with a small and teasing smirk. "Here to pick up at pebbles and fallen petals?" 

  
"Perhaps," he responded, now sitting next to her, "I already have." (And he had, actually).

   
Robin laughed, but the sound was interlaced with something that sounded like rain on a gray day.

  
"Did you not say you were at the library?"

  
Robin sighed and the roses seemed to sigh with her. "I was, but . . . I just needed a breather. I saw the garden behind the library windows and I couldn't help myself." 

  
"Ah," he said. It was a lovely night after all. The royal garden was filled with blooming flowers such as lilacs, jasmines, honeysuckles and other beauties that swayed languidly at the night breeze, their lips softly lined in glowing silver as they drank in the moonlight like wine.

   
Frederick's attention left the garden though. He was looking at Robin now. She was without her tactitan's coat, white hair half-wet. He also noticed that her snowdrop locks weren't tied up at the sides of her head. They were damp and left uncombed. She must've taken a bath, too lazy to brush or dry her hair.

   
"Are you not cold without your coat?" he asked.

   
Robin shrugged, her swan-colored hair like waterfalls, boundless and free. "The maids washed it and it's still drying. Besides, the night is warm," she said, resting her elbow on the arm of the bench, chin resting beneath her hand, "the moon pretty, the wind gentle as a feather."

   
Frederick hummed in understanding, agreeing about the moon. It was full, milky and dreamlike, it's light kissing Robin—who was oblivious to the moon's affections—and the air was gentle and soothing as a lullaby. Not only did the air feel nice, but it smelled nice.

  
When a soft breeze carried Robin's scent he concluded that she'd been here for a long time for she did not only smell of rose soap. Robin carried the natural perfumes of wet flowers, fresh rain, and the smell of pure nighttime that interlaced themselves into her white locks and olive skin. Pure white starlight even radiated from her hair, creating a sharp contrast to the darkness of her brown eyes. She left him breathless.

  
But . . . she had dark circles that hung beneath her eyes like shadowed crescents that hung lower and lower and turned darker and darker with each passing moon.

   
She reminded him of a sad white rose, its petals soft and pretty but limping and fading, bruising like the skin beneath her tired eyes. He was about to ask her if she had any sleeping vials to help her slumber, but before he could she interrupted with a chuckle. "I know I'm not at a presentable state, Frederick."

   
How long had he been staring at her? Had he made a fool of himself? Sure, she had her hair tangled and unruly like vines, but he did not think it was an unpleasant sight.

  
It . . . it was quite the opposite, to say the truth. He bit the inside of his cheek.

   
Robin wasn't looking at him anymore, her dark brown gaze shifting towards the lovely garden. No words left their lips now. It was just the sound of their soft breathing, the brushing of petals, leaves, and the whispering of the night air made sweet by flowers.

   
"You've been having nightmares?" It was a question, but it sounded like a concerned conclusion.

  
Robin rubbed at her tired and heavy eyes. "It's just been . . . difficult." She exhaled, soul sighing. "Today was the day Lucina was born and held by Chrom's arms."

  
He stayed silent.

  
Robin closed her eyes, painting an image in her head. "He was happy, yes, but there was hints of sadness swirling inside those blue eyes." She looked at him and brung her hands to her lap. Her fingers laced themselves together and made sure they covered the bruise-purple mark of Grima. "I know you saw it too."

  
Frederick admitted it, but he didn't say it out loud.

   
_It was about Emmeryn's death_. He knew she still blamed herself for it.

  
"Chrom obviously wanted Emmeryn to be there along with his side . . . to have Emmeryn hold Lucina's little hand and look at the twinkle of innocence in her eyes." Robin squeezed her eyes shut, not letting her tears betray her more than they already had. "It's my fault. If I hadn't said that the emblem held more value towards the people of Ylisse than Emmeryn, if I hadn't been so heartless and . . ." Her voice started to choke and she could form words no longer.

 

This was must have been bothering her. She must've been having reoccurring nightmares of Emmeryn's fall.

 

Frederick cupped her face and wiped her tears away with a calloused yet gentle thumb. She was stunned by his act, and so was he. Robin's eyes were wide, glassy and teary and a little red. She whispered his name but it was barely audible.

   
  
"It's not your fault," he said. "It is . . . mine." He will never forget the feeling helplessness as he saw his exalt fall, her hands and lips forming a final prayer as her delicate body hit the ground. _I failed to protect her, I broke my only vow._

   
  
"No, it's not, Frederick, deep inside you know there was nothing you could do." Robin pressed her forehead against his, making him look at her honest eyes, making the painful image of Emmeryn's fall fade.

  
His voice was quiet. "Perhaps the reason why it hurts so much is because that was exactly the problem," he said, tucking a porcelain white strand behind her ear. "That there was nothing any of us could do. No one . . . no one is at fault here."

  
Robin didn't say anything, but her eyes that were once like an unsettled sea finally did relax, its waves of emotions controlled. A weighted lifted off of them. He was right. Maybe she had just needed to hear it from him.

  
Frederick had forgotten that their foreheads were still touching. He was really close to her, mouth only a few petals apart, sharing each other's air  

 

He hadn't remembered being this close to anyone. Something inside his ribcage—his heart—blossomed. _Could it_   _be love?_

  
Frederick saw how Robin's eyes slowly fluttered shut and how eyelashes, wet with tears, collected her teardrops like dew. 

  
His own lashes lowered, and suddenly all the armor in his heart melted away like candles when her lips met his. Kissing her was like kissing a star; magical, fulfilling and burning. Kissing her was like kissing a nightly summer rain on your lips, warm and dulcet and filled with starlight.

  
"Robin," he whispered, voice hoarse. It sounded like _I love you_.

   
  
Robin lifted her hands and placed them softly against his chest, a warm palm right above his beating heart.

   
Frederick was so used to wearing armor; he had forgotten the feeling of having another human hand upon his chest, feeling his heartbeats, feeling how his chest rose and fell like an ocean.

  

 _This is what it was like to let someone in, this is what it was like to be touched._ "I . . . I cannot offer you a castle, a throne nor crown, but . . ." He was just a knight—could he ever give her anything more than just steel? Was he even worth more than the scars painted across his body?

  
Robin's cheeks were roseate and her hair was moonlight. "But what?" she whispered, voice pulling him away from his thoughts. She made him feel like there was more to him.

   
  
He kissed her. "I promise to offer all of my love to you, even as life leaves my lips, even as the skies burn and the stars bleed to nothing . . . I'll always"—here were the words that burned him raw, that melted all the armor beneath his skin. "I'll always love you."

   
Tears were softly streaming down her face and she closed her eyes. "Gods," she said, voice hoarse. "Gods . . ." Her shoulders and lips trembled.

 

Frederick leaned to her and held her hands. "Why do you cry?" he asked with a honey-dipped voice he never knew he had.

  

"I don't know," she laughed. "I'm just . . . . happy." She pressed her lips against his one more time and when he opened his eyes, he saw how her eyes sparkled like moonlight, shiny with tears. But those tears weren't of sadness anymore.

  

Something bloomed inside his chest like gardens at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even with tears.

   
  
The stars were twinkling, tiny silver bursts against the black canvas that was the night. The gentle moonflowers were blooming and everything felt right when they held on to each other like a constellation.

 

Everything was okay that night in the moonlit garden. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time posting anything here. I was always a bit nervous to be honest, but I finally did it! Originally this was going to be about Chrobin, but eventually I decided that Frederick would be perfect for this too. In here he's kind of a softy? I wanted to show that Robin can bring that side out and that he's not always stiff and hard as stone. I hope it wasn't cringey.


End file.
